Daunted Death
by SevSnapeWriter
Summary: The cruel nature of the Severus Snape has come to be expected.  Heartless and empty most would call him, but then Harry sees something through Voldemort that threatens to crack the carefully crafted mask of the Potions Master.  OotP set.
1. Chapter 1

Daunted Death Chapter 1

"I don't know what you want me to do about it, you fucking bitch!" Tobias screamed, "If the kid doesn't have clothes then it's his fault. He can run around fucking naked for all I care!"

"He needs clothes," Eileen spat back, though not as venomously, "We are his parents. When his clothes are falling off for all their wholes or are three sizes too small it's our job to fix it."

Severus watched through tear-glazed eyes as his parents screamed at each other yet again. He could hardly see them through the extreme dimness of the living room beyond the tiny closet he sought refuge in. The sliver crack between the door and it's frame was just enough to let his frail mother into view. Her hair was lanky and oily, blending perfectly with the shadows she danced in and out of, hoping to avoid the inevitable blow. Though shadowed, her pale face was still seen. She was not an older woman, not nearly, but her face was streaked with the far too many cares she had to bare and the occasional green or yellow tinge. Soon red and purple would also invade her sallow skin.

"Really?" Tobias boomed, "You are the one that had the little son-of-a-bitch! You take care of him. If it was my way I'd just smash his head under the damn car tire!"

Severus recoiled in the closet, wrapping his arms around his trembling body.

Eileen shrieked, "Don't say that! You know he can hear you!" "Don't tell me what the fuck I can say!"

For an instant their son caught a glimpse of his brutal father; he was a burly man with dark hair and a large crooked nose. Both parents left his view in a whirl of blood and fists, accompanied by Eileen's screams.

Horrified, though he had known what was coming, Severus sank to the floor and wrapped his arms around his bony legs. Much like his mother, he was scrawny and unusually pale. His straggly, ebony hair was as shinning as hers and his eyes just as dark, though usually swollen or adverted to the floor. Though he hated his appearance, is nose, in particular, he really despised; it was just like his father's. Large though it surly was, he wondered if his nose was naturally crooked of if it had just been broken too many times to heal no matter what spell his mother tried.

Another scream. Another thud.

Severus flinched as though he had just been pounded into the ground. The common trembling that had taken over his body was almost painful, especially on his bruised chest. He hated Summer, hated being home, even if school meant being tormented by that good-for-nothing Potter, his minion Black, and that fat weasel Petegrew.

No matter how many times he begged his mom to just stay away from Tobias she still spoke to him, asked him, the filthy muggle, for things. Severus pleaded with her to leave and hide; it wouldn't have been that hard. She was a witch after all. Yet still she turned a deaf ear to her son. It was infuriating!

Something large hit the closest door. He let out an involuntary squeak. The door flew open, and a sticky had grabbed him above the elbow and jerked him out into the further darkening room. Eileen was stumbling to her feet, grabbing the back of the decrepit couch for balance. She caught sight of her boy fighting the ridiculously strong hand that held him. He wanted away and to his mom. He knew she was injured, and he also knew she would probably try to free or defend Severus, which would leave her nearly unconscious. He wanted to be thrown to the ground like always before and scramble away.

"Tobias, let him go," she commanded strongly, blood running down her chin, "You'll hurt him. He hasn't done anything!"

"I don't give shit what he's done. He's just like you!" "And proud of it!" Severus yelled up at the man that continued to restrain him, earning him a powerful blow to his stomach.

Finally he was thrown to the floor and kicked in the side. His eyes showed him only black speckled with light dots as he waited for the immediate pain to subside. Gentler hands touch his shoulder, but he pulled away. When he felt like he could stand to open his eyes, his mother, face freshly puffy, was at his side.

A grunt and a loudly slammed door told him the man was gone.

"I wish the asshole would just drink himself to death and die," Severus said towards the carpet.

A hand streaked out and slapped him.

Of all the grotesque and demeaning things his father did to him, none of them hurt as much as his mom slapping him. She didn't do it terribly often, but it wasn't rare. As much as he wanted her to be the kind, caring mother he needed, she was far from it. True, she did usually stick for him and heal him when time permitted. To him it was like she took care of him because she was the only one she thought should be able to hit him. However, he knew all too well she could do much worse things to him than just a slap.

"Go to bed," she told him coldly and marched off to the door behind the couch.

More tears fought their way from his eyes to land on the carpet with the steady dripping of blood from his now broken nose.

"Enough!"

Harry stumbled back and into the slimy jars that lined Professor Snape's office as his spell was forcibly broken. Harry stared at his teacher. The modern day Snape looked the same as the child one with the exceptions of his now broadened shoulders, two and a half feet of height, and the fact that now Snape was not busied, bleeding, or crying.

Wow, and I thought the Dursley's were bad.

Harry had known Snape's parents were not the greatest from the previous year. After last time Harry had fully expected to never see anything like that again. That too had been information unveiled in Occlumency lessons. With Dumbledore gone, Harry had to, temporarily, continue his lessons with Snape, which never had the excitement as the ones with Dumbledore, other than the constant threats of being hexed or Gryffindor permanently bare of house points.

A look of slight shock and surprising sympathy waved over his face.

"I do not need your pity, Potter," Snape spat, turning on his heal in a swoosh of his cloak to sit behind his desk, "I see that Dumbledore has somehow found a way to get you to take arming your feeble mind seriously, even if it is quite an unorthodox branch of magic he had found it in."

Part of Harry hardly registered what he said. Harry was too busy frowning at his teacher. Maybe that's why the bat-like Potions' Master always wore so many tight layers of the same, fine black robe; he had scars, not like Harry's, but deep, brutal, shameful ones that told of his childhood.

"What happened to them, Sir?" Harry asked politely, surprising himself.

"That's not really any of your business is it, Potter? You need to concentrate on subjects and matters that are of your concern. Leave. We are done."

Snape went back to pointedly grading dreadful essays, as he had been doing before Potter showed up, when he heard his door finally close. The quill slipped from his fingers, leaving a large blob of ink upon the parchment he was grading. He set his face in his palms.

He knew he should remove those memories, but Dumbledore's Pensieve was in use, and his own was full. After several years of searching for his own Pensieve, he finally found one from a customer of Borgin and Burkes, no less. It was black with cerated edges that made his liquefied memories stand out even more than they usually would against the dark surrounding. Now, after last time, it was hidden in a private storage cupboard. Never would he let anyone, least of all Potter, see what it held tight in its depths.

Harry walked swiftly by the Tranfiguration room, hoping if he moved fast enough Peeves wouldn't notice him.

That hope didn't last long.

"What is Potty doing out of bed so late?" the poltergeist asked in his annoying, nasally voice, floating around Harry in tight circles so fast Harry was getting dizzy, "Naughty, naughty Potty can't ever seem to follow the rules."

Just when Harry was about to make an extremely rude retort, a light but stern voice said, "I believe you have other matters to concern yourself with, Peeves."

Turning around and nearly loosing his balance, Harry saw Albus Dumbledore standing in the middle of the corridor, his normally kind blue eyes glaring at Peeves.

"So sorry, Professor Head, Sir, just having fun," Peeves told him a little more timidly than usual before drifting up through the ceiling.

"Sir," Harry said right away, hoping to avoid getting into trouble, "You're back. When did you get here?"

"Only a few moments ago," Dumbledore replied, striding up beside Harry as they both continued down the corridor, "I was on my way to visit Professor Snape when I heard Peeves. If he doesn't wish to get into trouble he should really learn to keep his voice down, you know."

Harry nodded offhandedly and said, "I wouldn't go see Snape now. He's not in the greatest mood."

"Any time spent with you does not make his mood great, as I am sure it does for you spending time with him. You did not go into the Pensieve again?"

"No, Sir," Harry answered at once under Dumbledore's suspicious stare, "I broke into his mind with his spell and saw him and his parents."

"Oh dear," said Dumbledore, stopping abruptly, "What exactly did this memory consist of?" "His dad beating the crap out of his mom, punching him, and his mom slapping him." Dumbledore seemed to relax.

He told Harry, "There are many memories Professor Snape has of his parents. You were fortunate enough to see one of the milder ones. You did not inquire about it, I hope?"

"I asked him what happened to them," Harry said, now feeling slightly ashamed.

Dumbledore looked into Harry's green eyes and told him softer, "Eileen was beaten to death by her husband in front of Professor Snape when he was sixteen. Tobias' location is unknown, and I believe Professor Snape prefers it that way. I must ask you to tell no one about this, and not to inquire anymore about those two people."

"I promise, Professor," Harry told him, stunned for the moment.

"Good," sighed Dumbledore, "Now off to bed with you. Good night, Harry." "'Night, Professor."

Harry had many thoughts burning his brain, all of which were unpleasant. He always imagined parents to be like Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, so to have a father that spoke of killing you and a mother who's slap was more like a punch on top of everything else was unthinkable. Even Lucius Malfoy loved his son.

Harry rolled over in his four-poster to stare at the side hangings of his bed. He had seen death: Cedric, Sirius, various Death Eaters at Voldemort's hand in his vision-link dreams. He had heard his parents' last moments. It twisted his heart and haunted his un-Voldemort-ed dreams, but to see it...?


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

He could hear chains rattling in the distance as he returned to the dungeon-like basement. A musty smell surrounded him, and he smiled, reawakening the monster below his naval.

Stupid Lucius! Why would he interrupt his master at this time? The fact that Lucius, nor anyone else, knew what was going on never crossed Harry's mind. The wretched man would pay later; right now Harry was busy.

Heavy, pained breathing reached his ears, making him grin again. He loved doing this, especially to Severus. The man had such a high horse sometimes, with him it felt even better than usual to dominate someone in such a way.

He held out his pale, spidery hand clutched around his wand and lazily thought, Incendio! First one, two, then three candles lit, illuminating the only other person in the room.

Severus Snape, naked, suspended by rotting chains from the unseen ceiling flinched away from the light. The red that streaked his pale, thin body glistened in the flickering flame just like the beaded sweat that arose from screaming and twisting. The metal cuffs cut deeply into his wrists, streaking blood all down his arms, and his forehead was sorely scraped from the unforgiving stone he had been pressed against. His muscles ached from tensing, jumping, and stretching so much. His toes, barely balanced, held most of his weight. Severus was painfully aware of the plastic, constricting ring that encircled the base of his penis. Throbbing ran through his veins from the thing inside his body that continuously forced more of his blood to run down the back of his legs... again.

"My Severus, what do we have left to do?" Harry asked in amusement, his voice higher and colder than usual.

Severus took a labored breath and quickly gasped, "Everything, Master." Harry smiled. He reached out a finger and ran it down the others slick chest. Severus trembled against his will. The hand continued lower to his naval and further down. The long scratches starting at the plastic ring down to the head of his length were proof he had reason to be afraid. Harry waved his wand, and as Severus gasped through no pleasure at all, he was hard in Harry's hand, blood dripping from the end. Pale fingers enclosed around him, and it was all Severus could do not to scream.

Minutes later he was turned around and smashed into the cold stone wall. Harry could see how tightly shut the other man's eyes were as he tried to block everything out; Severus didn't want to see the three candles, the rusty chains, the frigged, almost black stone, and especially not the unnatural skin that slid over his flesh.

Harry ran his hands lower and cupped the firm backside. Severus' entire body shook in anticipation as the hands dipped lower between his legs.

An unnerving scream shot through the air. Harry had ripped the spiky, flat, dark blue toy out of Severus. Blood free-flowed down the man's legs. Harry was inescapably hard at the sight.

He pressed up against his victim, wrapping his arms around and smothering his chest, unkindly squeezing his nipples until blood oozed out and streaked his skin. Harry fit himself first against Severus' bleeding sac, relishing in the sting he knew that was flooding the other man's body.

Finally, as Severus knew what must come again for this to be over, Harry lined the head of his erection up against Severus' entrance. Slowly he slid in only a little ways. He heard painful noises and knew Severus was fighting not to scream. Little pride though he had now, Severus would not give the monster that satisfaction.

To his horror Harry didn't continue but pulled back out. He shut his eyes tight and took a deep breath.

Harry embedded his entire penis in a single thrust.

A scream ripped though the air so violently it made Harry quiver.

God, he craved this. He needed this. Bella was good for a fix, but she always enjoyed it no matter what he did to her, but Severus, he hated it possibly more than anything else, which made it even more thrilling to order him to say he wanted and needed what his master did to him. Yet still even better was imagining the look on the old man's face as he patched up his loyal Severus again.

Faster and faster Harry pumped, jamming harshly into Severus' prostate, making the prisoner wither and try to pull away, though the chains, stone wall, and sheer weakness of his body would never allow it. Bony hands wrapped around his forced erection and tugged at the cuts on his balls so he would squirm in pain.

Harry jerked around purposely, sinking his teeth into Severus' shoulder, sucking all the blood that rose to the surface. He pumped faster- harder, harder-faster to all of Severus' gasps, struggles, and salty tears he could no longer hold back.

"Stop," whispered Severus in a very unusually high voice, his head tilted up towards the chains, "Master, stop, please."

He had been wonderful to his pride at first like all the other times, never struggling, crying, saying anything. No emotion what-so-ever crossed his face or body, but the remark his master made before speaking with Lucius weakened him greatly. Count in that with the humiliation, flashbacks, and pain he now felt, most people would be surprised his mind didn't implode, especially after hours of this, starting hardly thirty minutes after Potter left him to think about gruesome memories and where Tobias might be now. It was all he could do not to bust out in full blown tears and beg, but Severus Snape always had some control if not all.

"What?" gasped Harry wanting him to plead and beg.

"Please stop, Master, please."

The urgent note purposely put there set Harry off. He could feel it coming, coming...

Harry rolled off his bed, wrapped in sheets and covered in sweat, and vomited again and again before a single thought branded his brain: he needed to get to Dumbledore; they had to save Snape.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Harry stumbled away from his four poster. It had a silencing charm on and around it on Dumbledore's orders for moments such as this. He made it to the door, fell through it, and tumbled down the stairs. He got out of the common room as fast as possible to avoid the awakening Gryffindors coming in search of the noise he was creating.

Getting to Dumbledore was the only thing Harry could think of, so he didn't notice Mrs. Norris lurking in the shadows. Holding himself up on the walls, he made his way down staircases and along corridors, barely conscious of where he was going.

Out of nowhere, a crazed man jumped in front of him and grabbed Harry's arm. He held so tight all Harry could do was weakly struggle and yell, Snape's chained, crying figure swimming before him, making him vomit again.

"Let go! I have to find Dumbledore! Have to... Let go!" "Not a chance," Filch breathed, "I've finally got you, I do. You can't talk your way out of this!" "Filch!" Dumbledore's voice called demandingly, "Let him alone. You have other matters to see to." The outraged look on Filch's face made it perfectly clear he wanted to ague, but Dumbledore was fierce at the moment, and even Filch knew not to push it. Grumbling as he went away, the caretaker left Harry to stumble towards his approaching teacher.

"Harry, since this seems important, please go to my office and wait for me there. I may be a while."

Dumbledore was turning away!

"No!" Harry yelled, trembling all over, starting to feel the sting of tears, "Snape, he... he..."

"What did you see, Harry?" Dumbledore asked urgently, leaning over, putting a hand on each of Harry's shoulders, and piercing his eyes with such a gaze.

For a moment Harry didn't answer, then it poured out like a broken dam.

"He was raped! He was hanging from the ceiling and crying! He's hurt bad, and weak. Go get him- heal him- do something!"

"He will be at the front gates where I will be waiting for him," Harry was informed.

The old man turned again, but Harry lashed out and grabbed his arm.

"I want to go. I want to see him."

The headmaster surveyed Harry for a moment, and then, deciding the poor boy couldn't see anything worse than what he had already felt, nodded and swiftly resumed his path down to the Great Hall and through the double doors. The night was unusually dark, though to Harry everything seemed sinister at the moment. Dumbledore walked swiftly, but the look he had before (was it fear?) was gone. Harry was terrified.

Soon the gates were not far from them. Harry picked up his pace, but Dumbledore threw out an arm to stop him.

"No further. I do not want you off the grounds." Obediently Harry stayed as Dumbledore moved forward to the gates.

They were not made to wait long. A sporadic breeze ruffled Harry's hair. Suddenly a single man appeared lying in the grass far off the path. He sounded like he was struggling with the urge to scream, his breathing severely labored.

Quietly undoing the enchantments on the castle grounds and throwing one side of the gates open, Dumbledore rushed out and over to Snape. Unable to stand there and watch anyone in that kind of pain Harry dashed out and knelt beside his Potions' Master.

Severus' eyes were partially open. He saw figures above him, but nothing registered. He couldn't put a finger on the voices he was hearing, nor could he quite place where he was. All he knew was that he would do anything to make the pain stop, cool the fire that was pumped through his body by his own treacherous heart. Anything. He would have most welcomed death, but that would have been too quick. He didn't deserve that kind of mercy.

Harry would have been thoroughly sick at his teacher's appearance had he not been the very thing that thrashed him so. Blood shined and glittered in the moonlight from every part of Snape's skin. Long, deep gashes streamed down his back, legs, and arms, and his neck was swollen and completely blue, brown, and purple. The entire form of the man shook violently, rubbing skinless wrists into dirt and glass.

"He was also poisoned," Dumbledore told Harry, seemingly forgetting that he told Harry to stay back, "Help me."

A white stretcher appeared on the ground. Harry picked up his teacher's hands to try to keep them from rubbing anything. With a gentle wave of his wand, the headmaster rose Snape's torso a full foot into the air. Harry scrambled to hold up Snape's head and take pressure off his neck as the man's body hung daftly. He moaned loudly in agony, just barely conscious. Slowly his body began to turn on its side. As he was lowered, Harry tucked in Snape's arms and Dumbledore his legs. The stretcher softly rose into the air.

"Should I get Madam Pomfrey?" Harry asked, still trembling and nearly tripping over himself.

"No, no one must know of this."

Soon they were walking further than Harry had ever gone before down the dungeon hall. They stopped far down at the end in front of a foreboding black door pressed into dark stones. Dumbledore pointed his wand at it. Bright green light appeared and gave the illusion it was sucked into Dumbledore's wand. The door opened without a sound, and they rushed in. Nothing of the dark, circular surroundings registered with Harry as he followed Dumbledore through the only other door in the back a little off to the left. That entrance too was black. Beyond was what Harry assumed to be Snape's bedchamber. As the stretcher paused, half on, half off the bed, again the main part of Snape's body was lifted, and Harry tried to coordinate all the man's dripping limbs so they weren't anymore painful than necessary and carefully rest them on the bed. It didn't take long for the clean white sheets to turn saturated red.

"Harry," said Dumbledore, "I appreciate your help, but in the interest of Professor Snape I must ask you to wait by the fire.

Harry stared at him for a moment without even thinking before walking out the door.

Dumbledore put a silencing charm on the entire room having just broken that enchantment, among others, from all the chambers, hoping that when Severus screamed no one else would hear.

It took Harry a while to register the private office he stood in. There was no fire. A black leather couch beside an identical, crooked recliner was barely visible in the darkness. Harry walked to the front of it and pointed his wand at the grate. It took several tries before a flame lit the logs. Suddenly the room was blanketed with menacing shadows. A flicker of fear grazed him, realizing he was in Snape's personal office. Two rows of shelves lined the circular walls jam packed with old, but not dusty, books. The walls were gray stone, as well as the floor. A beautifully carved wooden desk sat off to the side facing the entrance door, neatly organized with stacks of parchment graded or soon to be so, books, and quills of different kinds. In the back was a small bookcase full of titles Harry recognized not from the library, but from his Muggle school days: _Sense and Sensibility, Tale of Two Cities, Julius Caesar,_ but the most worn book was a hardcover version of Shakespeare's_ Romeo and Juliet._

Curiously frowning, Harry moved forward, knelt on the frigged stone, and pulled it out. It could have easily fallen apart in his hands. The pages were worn and yellow. Nothing was ripped or even bent, just so faded and smoothed it looked a hundred years old at least. Carefully opening it he noticed right away that some pages were written on. Selective sentences were underlined, remarks in a cursive hand were illegibly placed very specifically, and entire passages were circled. Slowly he flipped page after page, reading pieces here and there.

When he got towards the end when Romeo received word of Juliet's death, a picture slid out. It was of a giggling group of girls looking to be Gryffindors in their fourth year. There were five of them, a bold blond with bright eyes stood in the center, quite obviously the reason for the picture. As Harry scanned the rest of the girls his heart skipped a beat. The very last one on the end was a soft smiling, red haired, green eyed girl that Harry knew, or rather wished he knew. There was nothing shy about Lily's smile, but rather it was giving the sense that she was gazing at someone she cared for, a smile that welcomed anything she needed to be told no mattered what is was. He sat there on the floor with the ancient book and stared at the photo, trying to imagine what she was doing that day, what she was like then. So many possibilities swirled in his brain he almost forgot what had just happened.

Almost.

"As unlikely as it may seem to you, Harry, Professor Snape has a personal life, and I believe it should remain so," Dumbledore's gentle voice said from the door.

Harry looked down at the picture. He knew he should never have seen any of this and had the indisputable feeling he was trespassing on something deep and meaningful to his teacher. He carefully set it back on the shelf just as it was.

"Sorry, Professor," he said, rising to his feet, "Is... is he alright?" Sighing, the old man said, "He will be in a great deal of pain for a few days. Do be on your best behavior. I know you are not nearly as bad as he says, but I also know you are not innocent either." Silence spilled over them.

"Can I see him?" asked Harry suddenly, surprising even himself.

After a second Dumbledore gestured for Harry to enter. The bedchamber look exactly like the office in walls and floor. The bed was flanked by ornately carved bedside tables both with a row of books. In the back was a large wardrobe, and on their left was another door Harry guessed led to a bathroom. It was pretty dull, except for the picture that hung above the bed. It was not huge, but it stood out all the same. Done in many shades of gray and extremely dark blues, it was a man seemingly naked with his head tucked down into his pulled-up knees, arms wrapped tight around his legs.

While Harry liked it, he stared more out of avoidance than anything else. A large part of him did not want to see his teacher as naked as the man in the painting.

Harry forced himself to look down. He cringed slightly. Snape's face was tinged with bruises and spotted closely with scrapes. A little less colorful than before but otherwise his neck looked just the same. His wrists were wrapped and lie beside his head lightly on the fluffy pillow. From what Harry could see just about all of Snape's chest was bandaged with bruises swelling out at the ends, but it rose and fell with soft, even intervals.

Harry asked without moving his eyes, "Why this, of all things? Isn't the Cruciatus Curse good enough?"

"Harry, this was not for punishment; it was solely for Voldemort's pleasure. He likes to be able to break Professor Snape this way."

"After everything, especially with Sirius, I wanted something really bad to happen to him. I wanted him hurt for being so horrible, but this... I didn't want this."

"No," said Dumbledore softly, "I know you did not. I have felt similar feelings, particularly towards Fudge."

Harry half smiled.

"Was he in love with that Gryffindor girl? If he was related to any of them I'm assuming the picture wouldn't be inside _Romeo and Juliet._"

"He loved a Gryffindor, yes."

"Has this happened before?" Harry burst, "Why did I see it?" "Unfortunately, yes, this has happened several times before. This time something disrupted Voldemort's concentration on keeping you out." "Lucius Malfoy... He came to tell him something- something that wasn't important." Dumbledore nodded. "Lucius often keeps track of Professor Snape since he found him once in a state as bad as this before you ripped Voldemort from his body. Lucius thought, and was obviously correct, that it would happen again. Since Voldemort has returned Lucius sends Severus back to Hogwarts knowing I will heal him.

"Harry, Severus is a proud man, which is exactly what causes him this, so I must ask you to tell no one."

"Of course not, Professor."

Pulsing pain, fire searing through muscles, a metallic drum in his head.

Snape forced his eyes open immediately. Thankfully his chamber was dark. He closed his eyes.

_Not again!_

A groan of frustration and humiliation left him.

"Professor Head said Dot should tells when the Professor wakes from his potion explosion," a tiny house-elf squeaked and vanished in a crack!

He laid there for a few minutes. Finally he forced himself up on his elbows to start with. Pain rumbled down his back and stomach and lower to his very swollen, torn opening and mutilated genitals. He pushed past the pain and made it to a full sitting position for a second, gritting his teeth and clenching his eyes, stinging his face, before leaning over to one side to keep the weight off his backside.

"You really should just sit and heal," Dumbledore's voice said from the door.

"Water," Severus gasped.

Knowing full well what had much more than likely been forced in the man's mouth, Dumbledore immediately conjured two glasses and filled one. He swiftly went to the bedside and handed the water one over than switched so Severus could spit into the other one. After a couple times Dumbledore drew a fresh glass of water, and Snape drained it.

"Lie down and rest."

"No, I have to teach."

"Minerva has taken over your classes."

"I have to follow Potter."

"He is asleep in Gryffindor Tower."

Snape gave him a quizzical look. Dumbledore pushed him back down to the mattress. Severus wanted to fight, but the pain was much too much. Once he was settled, Dumbledore sat on the edge of the bed.

"Harry saw last night."

Slightly open mouthed, Severus stared at him.

"To what extent?"

"When Voldemort returned from Lucius up until he-finished. That was what awoke Harry. He was terrified. He came to find me and was insistent on helping get you back in and seeing you after I healed most of your injuries. He swore not to tell anyone."

"I cannot get any worse than Potter knowing."

"Oh, I daresay it can. Harry is a much better person than you care to realize." Snape groaned, putting his hands on his face. He could not express how frustrating and humiliating it was to have that Potter boy know-see-him... that way. He was completely appalled. How was he supposed to face the boy now? "Do not slip in your punishments. They are crucial for Draco to see, remember."

"Can't I just ignore him?" Snape asked.

"No, you must keep normalcy."

Long minutes followed, in which Severus decided not to think about Potter.

"How bad was it?" he asked.

"The same as always, only the chosen toy was much harsher than usual."

"I could have told you that."

"Harry said the worst, and scariest, part about about all of it was you crying and... pleading. He thought that was normal, but I know differently. You have never asked him to stop before."

Severus stared at the ceiling, his fingers linked, resting on his forehead. Finally he spoke.

"He said it was a shame she was dead. He said he'd have liked to tie her up too." He closed his eyes and covered them as tears squeezed their way to escape. "He said instead he was going to ravage her corpse and then make me do it."

Dumbledore could do nothing but leave Severus to cry himself asleep.

Harry watched his professor march into the class room and up to his desk quite normally. Scrutinizing his teacher's behavior, Harry was careful not to let the other man see him. Snape's movements were stiff but so slightly that only someone intently looking for them would notice.

He was not his usual self at all. He ignored Harry completely and even forgot to be horrible to Neville when his skell-grow potion erupted over half the class. He simply said to clean it up.

Harry could see Hermione's brain working with the abnormalities. Harry didn't want her asking him if he knew anything, so he busied himself with the impossible potion. Ron didn't seem to notice anything at all.

Class was over and, without looking up, all Snape said was 'Dismissed.' The others bustled out of class in no time, but Harry purposely hung back.

"You guys go without me," he said softly, "I have to talk to Snape."

His friends nodded, thinking it had something to do with Occlumency lessons, and left without a word.

Leaving his bag on the table, Harry walked hesitantly up to his teacher.

"Stop," Snape commanded quietly, which somehow made him even more frightening.

Harry froze.

Snape continued, "I have no need for anything you have to say. Leave."

"Sir-"

"Leave."

Harry took a deep breath, grabbed his bag, and left.

When the sound of the dungeon door closing reached his ears, Severus dropped his quill and heavily rested his face in his hands. He took a slow deep breath that tore at his chest. No one was watching so he was free to lean forward off his butt to settle on the backs of his knees, which still stung. Walking around the classroom was so incredibly painful, he thought if he opened his mouth he would certainly scream. Dumbledore was going to berate him for not tormenting Potter, especially after they were alone together, but Severus just couldn't bring himself to hear what Potter had to say, didn't want to think the boy pitied him. Part of Severus still couldn't fully comprehend the boy knew what his blood tasted of, what all the bare flesh and Voldemort's erection felt like, not to mention being inside of him. Severus suppressed a shiver. Severus Snape did not shiver (and it would probably hurt like hell).

All he was feeling-the searing, unceasing agony, the humiliation and awkwardness-he knew he deserved every bit.


End file.
